


Incendium

by xensilverquill



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 06:37:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1459612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xensilverquill/pseuds/xensilverquill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tragedy at Lysandre Labs today…" </p><p>[The aftermath of a petty argument could very well mean the death of the man he loves.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incendium

**_"Tragedy at Lysandre Labs today..."_ **

Brown rivulets of coffee flowed and seeped into the wood, forever staining the mahogany floors. Jagged white shards were all that was left of the shattered mug. Shaking like a seedot in a storm, Augustine's widened eyes took in the horror of the scene. His face was ghostly pale as his lips murmured silently, "No, no, no..."

The local news network was covering it all. Smoke billowed up in clouds around the Labs' office on Autumnal Avenue. Winter snow was turned an ugly grey from the ash flying on the breeze. New ice was forming on the street where water mains had burst, and the facade of the building had been destroyed, baring the wreckage within to the world outside. Small fires still burned in some spots as reminders of the flaming explosion. The buzz of emergency workers and firefighters and their pokémon came across as raspy rumble across the television speakers.

**_"...cause of explosion uncertain..."_ **

Augustine rushed to pick up the holo caster off the kitchenette counter. He tripped over his own feet in his haste, and he fumbled with the device. Finally flipping the "ON" button, the professor quickly began punching at the screen with his fingers.

"Contacts... " he whispered to himself. Sweat beaded his forehead as his heart beat a feverish tattoo. The screen finally opened to the proper page. He hit the "call" button hard enough to nearly crack the glass.

"Oh, Arceus, pick up.  _Please_  pick up..." The ringtone  _pinged_  through the silence of his apartment, the one he shared with Lysandre. It echoed coldly in the air. Each successive ring stretched Augustine's nerves taut, and he was liable to snap at any moment. He raked his brown hair back in his anxious old habit. Muttered prayers fled from him but to no avail: no one ever picked up the call on the other end.

**_"...suspected by authorities to be an 'inside job'..."_ **

They had been fighting earlier that morning.

He could not even remember what they had been arguing about. It had been a particularly explosive shout fest between them, though, one that would have put a troop of loudreds to shame for sheer volume. Augustine could still remember Lysandre's furious gaze stabbing figurative daggers into him, his mane of red hair like shimmering fire with all his bristling. His yells had nearly deafened the professor as he shoved his roommate against the wall. Not to be outdone - no, neither could let well enough alone when they were that angry - Augustine had shoved back just as hard, screamed just as loudly.

It ended with bruised egos and bodies for both of them. Lysandre stormed out of their home sporting a darkening patch on his jaw where the professor had given him a right hook. As for Augustine, he had a gotten a good walloping to the head, though nothing serious. It was his pride that was more hurt than anything. It was also his pride that kept him from going after his friend and lover even after he had several hours to cool down and lick his wounds. While he liked to think of himself as a forgiving person, that was more the exception than the rule when it came to these occasional (though no less violent for their infrequency) fights with Lysandre.

**_"...dozens of people and pokémon injured..."_ **

After their arguments, if they could not resolve their differences peacefully, the head of Lysandre Labs could most usually be found buried in his some project or paperwork. It was simply how the man worked out his frustration. In pouring his pent-up energy into something productive, he could drain away his aggression and begin to think rationally again. By that time Augustine had usually cooled down, too. Within a day or two they could mend matters between them like the rational adults they were supposed to be and all would be well again. (And, if the truth were to be told, with deliciously amorous apologies from the both of them.)

This was always how they resolved their arguments, always. That was what held Augustine in the thrall of terror and dread now. His hand shot up to his mouth to keep from screaming or retching or both. Breaths coming unsteadily, he was on the verge of hyperventilating. Panic shot like lightning bolts into his chest.

For his petty bickering and selfish pride - however unintentionally - had more than likely just sent Lysandre to his death.

**_"...twenty-three employees dead and fifty others missing..."_ **

Dropping the holo caster on the floor, Augustine raced to the front door and flung it wide open. He raced down the seven staircases that led up to their floor of the building, nearly falling down the steps more than once. Without so much as a coat he ran out into the winter evening on Northern Boulevard. He barely took notice of the chill as he sprinted down the snow-blanketed street. All but running over pedestrians and the wandering skiddoes and furfous who got in his way, the professor looked like a stark raving madman. He  _was_  for all intents and purposes, for all his entire being was focused on one singular mission: to get to Lysandre, whether he living or... or...

_Arceus, Arceus, please let him be all right! Don't let me too late! Don't let me be the reason he's dead!_

**_"...company CEO, Lysandre Fleur-de-lis, still unaccounted for..."_ **

That was when the tears started falling.

It was his good fortune that he knew the streets and alleys of Lumiose by heart. His vision became blurry with the drops falling from his eyes. Augustine was blind as a zubat by the time he veered of the main avenue into a shaded backstreet. Though there were fewer people or obstructions in his path here, in his mind every small obstacle seemed to throw itself up to slow him down. Trash cans, stray purloins and meowths, and even a snoozing snorlax - he jumped, dodged, or knocked down every one he came across in his desperation to get to Lysandre Labs. He roughy scraped his wrist across his face to clear his view. Above the wall of buildings he could see the faint, shadowy plume that wound its way up to disappear in the sky, marking the source of the explosion still a mile off.

_**"...growlithe and arcanine squads continue to search for victims..."** _

He ran into a spot of trouble when he met came out on Autumnal. At last he could see the decimated remains of the office - and the dozens of emergency personnel between him and there. He ran up to a roadblock stationed with a pair of police officers. "Monsieurs!" Augustine hailed them down breathlessly. Cheeks flushed bright red with exertion and his bare forearms crawling with goosebumps, he was quite the sight to the two men. He pushed the tangle of brown hair from his eyes as addressed them once more.

"Monsieurs, I am Professor Augustine Sycamore. My friend, Monsieur Fleur-de-Lis, was here during the acci-" He was gently pushed back from the barriers by one of the officers. When he made to push back, the hold on his shoulders became firmer.

"Sir, I must ask you to stand back," he said to the professor. "The situation is still unstable. For your safety and others, you need to remain behind the rail."

Augustine resisted immediately, shoving the man's hands off him. "No, you don't understand! Please, for the love of Arceus, tell me: have you heard anything from or about Lysandre Fleur-de-Lis?!"

The office was quickly losing patience with the professor, reaching for a walkie-talkie at his belt. "Sir, we have the authority to place you under arrest and use force if necessary if you insist on impeding in our operations. You will be notified with when everyone else is on the status of the victims."

_**"...lead technician Doctor Xerosic confirms suspicions of 'sabotage'..."** _

"Damn you both! Let me through or I'll make you!" His face drew up in a dark snarl, his grey narrowed and crazed. No one was going to stop him from getting to Lysandre, least of all these two officers. Ramming through them with a strength and speed he did not know he possessed, he took a running leap over the metal railings. He thought he heard them yelling at him to stop, to come back, but their shouts were soon lost in the chaos Augustine hurtled towards.

Smoke and mayhem surrounded him. Though the place had calmed somewhat from the scene from the television earlier, it was still bedlam immediately around the office building. He could not see more than a few meters in front of him for all the people and pokémon rushing to and fro about him. Craning his head over the throng, the professor searched for the scarlet cravat, the shock of white beartic fur, the unmistakable red hair, any sign of Lysandre. He found none.

_**"...family and friends of those caught in the explosion concerned and fearing for their loved ones..."** _

After several minutes of blindly scrambling about, he spotted the hastily thrown up orange medic tent. Making a beeline for the tarped structure, the dread rose and tightened into his throat. Passing groups of chansey, audino, and wigglytuffs and their overseeing nurses and doctors, Augustine managed to get through the rabble without being stopped.

Rows of cots lined the inside of the tent. The dead and injured lay beside each other indiscriminately. Teams came in to take the deceased away in body bags, presumably to the city hospital's morgue. Augustine prayed to whatever god might be listening that he would not find Lysandre among them, yet another part of him did. Anything to end this anxiety, anything was better than this  _not knowing_...

Then he saw him.

**_"...scale of destruction not seen in the city since the attack on Lumiose Station three years ago..."_ **

Lysandre lay prone on a cot near the back. Scratches and bruishes liberally decorated his face and exposed chest. One of his shoulders was bandaged up under the tattered remains of his coat, the dark brown stain under them suggesting a serious wound underneath. His head was turned away from the professor, eyes closed. Yet there a rising and falling to his abdomen, though somewhat faint. His pulse showed plainly in his thick neck. Though frankly beaten and battered, Lysandre was alive, Arceus, he was alive!

At first all Augustine could do was stand there, trembling as he did in his living room only half an hour ago. Then those blue eyes cracked open. Bleary and unfocused, that gaze turned with Lysandre's head to the professor who stood only a meter from him. A tired, rather perplexed-sounding groan escaped from him, coming out as something like, "Au-augstine?"

**_"...relief efforts coming in from all over the city..."_ **

Augustine all but tackled the man as he rushed forward. His arms hooked around his torso, hoisting his upper body clear off the canvas bedding. A pained "oof!" from the man only caused his hold to tighten. Every pained sound and breath confirmed that the one he loved was  _alive_ , that he would be  _all right_.

Burying his face in the singed, fur lined collar of the coat, Augustine laughed weakly, hysterically. Tears thoroughly soaked the material as his lover's strong arms clasped firmly around his waist. His nose and cheeks was soon covered in a fine layer of soot from where he nuzzled Lysandre's neck.

"Oh, mon cher," whispered the professor as his hands clung to the black leather. "I thought I had lost you. Th-thank Arceus! I thought- I thought-" A finger at his lips quieted him, stilling the sobs that threatened to spill over and turn him into a blubbering fool. He peered up at the flaming haired man. Lysandre's thumb gently brushed under his eyes, wiping away the wet tracks from his face.

**_"...prayers and condolences across Kalos going to the victims and their families..."_ **

"Mon petit shinx," he purred, looking down at the slightly smaller man. "Shhh... It is all right. I am fine, see? Mon cher, do not cry..." Augustine only continued weep in spite of Lysandre's comforting words. Oh, Arceus, it was so good to hear his voice.

He felt his lover's lips brush against his temples, as if to further reassure the professor that he was indeed alive and well. Wrapping his arms for firmly around Augustine, he brought the both of them to lay on their sides on the narrow cot. Sobs of love and relief eventually subsiding to shuddering breaths, he kissed the injured man gently. Lysandre returned the gesture with a warm tenderness.

"Mon petit litleo, I am so sorry," Augustine breathed remorsefully against his lips. Tears began build anew in his grey eyes. "If I not started the argument- If I had just swallowed my pride and gone after you- You would not be inju-" He was silenced once more by Lysandre's lips on his.

"Hush." The ginger's tone brooked no arguement, emphasizing the point by pulling the professor's face against his chest. "You could not have stopped any of this, and you would likely have been hurt, too, maybe even killed. Then how would have I ever forgiven myself, my last words to you so harsh, our last moments together so full of anger and sorrow?"

He ran calloused hands through Augustine's hair, and the other man relaxed against him. "Far better to be a little worse for wear than to never see you again, in my opinion. No, we will speak no more on this." His eyes closed, and Lysandre placed one last kiss on the professor's head.

"Je t'aime, Augustine Sycamore. No matter what differences might come between us, that will never change. I promise." With that, he fell asleep once more, his breathing deeper and steadier than before.

The last of his adrenaline-fueled panic ebbed at last. Augustine snuggled deeper in the folds of Lysandre's coat, exhaustion catching up to him at last but finding him at peace.  _Yes_ , he thought as slipped into rest along with Lysandre,  _it really is better this way_.

_**"...this is Lumiose Action News signing off. Sleep well, Lumiose City, and good night…"** _


End file.
